It is hard to resist the impression that
the present structure of the universe, apparently so sensitive to minor
alterations in numbers, has been rather carefully thought out.... The
seemingly miraculous concurrence of these numerical values must remain the most
compelling evidence for cosmic design.

Physicist Paul Davies1

Would it not be strange if a universe
without purpose accidentally created humans who are so obsessed with purpose?

Sir John Templeton.2

He became a spiritual skeptic when he
learned about Darwinism as a student. He worked for a while at a major Chicago
newspaper and went to graduate school at an Ivy League university. Spurred by
his wife’s Christianity, he later began investigating the evidence for a
Creator. With his mind opened by the facts, he ended up shedding his atheism and
embracing God, eventually writing a book that recounted his intellectual journey
to faith.

If that sounds like my story, it is3---but,
coincidentally, it’s also the story of Patrick Glynn, a former arms-control
negotiator for the Reagan administration and currently the associate director of
the George Washington University Institute for Communitarian Policy Studies in
Washington, D.C.

Glynn first encountered evolutionary
theory while a student in parochial school, immediately recognizing that it was
incompatible with the Bible. “I stood up in class and told the poor nun as
much,” he recalled.

Convinced that reason was “the only path
to truth,” Glynn became a confirmed atheist by the time he received his
doctorate from Harvard University in the 1970s. “Darwin had demonstrated that it
was not even necessary to posit a God to explain the origin of life,” he said.
“Life and the human species itself, was the outcome of essentially random
mechanisms operating over the eons.”

After marrying a Christian and finding
himself in frequent debate with her over spiritual matters, Glynn said his mind
“became sufficiently open” so that he was willing to check out whether there was
any rational evidence for the existence of God. He was hardly prepared for what
he would lean:

Gradually, I realized that in the twenty
years since I opted for philosophical atheism, a vast, systematic literature had
emerged that not only cast deep doubt on, but also, from any reasonable
perspective, effectively refuted my atheistic outlook.... Today, it seems to me,
there is no good reason for an intelligent person to embrace the illusion of
atheism or agnosticism, to make the same intellectual mistakes I made.4

What evidence was responsible for this
stunning spiritual turnaround? Among the most influential discoveries he
encountered in his investigation was the so-called “anthropic principle.” The
term derived from the Greek word anthropos for “man,” was coined by a
Cambridge physicist Brandon Carter, who delivered a ground-breaking paper called
“Large Number Coincidences and the Anthropic Principle in Cosmology” at a
prestigious scientific conference in 1973.

The principle, as Glynn learned,
essentially says that “all the seemingly arbitrary and unrelated constants in
physics have one strange thing in common---these are precisely the values you
need if you want to have a universe capable of producing life.”5

In his subsequent book God: The
Evidence, Glynn credits the absolutely incredible fine-tuning of the cosmos
as being among the key reasons why he concluded that the universe must have been
the hand work of a master designer.

“As recently as twenty-five years ago, a
reasonable person weighing the purely scientific evidence on the issue would
likely have come down on the side of skepticism. That is no longer the case,” he
said. “Today the concrete data point strongly in the direction of the God
hypothesis. It is the simplest and most obvious solution to the anthropic puzzle.”6

THE PRIMA FACIE
EVIDENCE

Alister McGrath, the erudite theologian
who studied molecular biophysics at Oxford and wrote the ambitious three-volume
series A Scientific Theology, has a penchant for penetrating to the core
of complex issues. In the case of the anthropic principle, he managed to
summarize the essential challenge in two succinct questions, which he posed with
a dash of British understatement: “Is it a pure coincidence that the laws of
nature are such that life is possible? Might this not be an important clue to
the nature and destiny of humanity?”7

Those two questions formed my roadmap as
I sought fresh answers concerning how and why physics so precariously
balances life on a razor’s edge. I already knew that an increasing number of
scientists and philosophers have been following the clues to their own
conclusions in recent decades, including “some who are innocent of any influence
from a conventional religious agenda,” in the words of physicist and theologian
John Polkinghorne.8

“It is quite easy to understand why so
many scientists have changed their minds in the past thirty years, agreeing that
the universe cannot reasonably be explained as a cosmic accident,” said Walter
Bradley, coauthor of The Mystery of Life’s Origin. “Evidence for an
intelligent designer becomes more compelling the more we understand about our
carefully crafted habitat.”9

For instance, the once-skeptical Paul
Davies, the former professor of theoretical physics at the University of
Adelaide, is now convinced that there must be a purpose behind the universe.

“Through my
scientific work I have come to believe more and more strongly that the physical
universe is put together with an ingenuity so astonishing that I cannot accept
it merely as a brute fact,” he said in his book The Mind of God. “I
cannot believe that our existence in this universe is a mere quirk of fate, an
accident of history, an incidental blip in the great cosmic drama.”10

Saying that “many scientists, when they
admit their views, incline toward the teleological or design argument,”
cosmologist Edward Harrison has come to this conclusion: “The fine tuning of
the universe provides prima facie evidence of deistic design.”11

The eminent astrophysicist Sir Fred Hoyle
put it this way: “I do not believe that any scientists who examined the
evidence would fail to draw the inference that the laws of nuclear physics have
been deliberately designed with regard to the consequences they produce
inside stars.”12

That observation, and others like it from
Hoyle, prompted Harvard astronomy professor Owen Gingerich, senior astronomer at
the Smithsonian Astrophysical Observatory, to comment: “Fred Hoyle and I
differ on lots of questions, but on this we agree: a common sense and satisfying
interpretation of our world suggests the designing hand of a superintelligence.”13

Oxford-educated John Leslie, who
catalogues many anthropic examples in his eye-opening 1989 book Universes,
said he believes that if ours is the only universe--—and there are no
scientific data proving any others exist---then the fine tuning is “genuine
evidence. . . that God is real.”14

In their book The New Story of Science,
Robert Augros and George Stanciu sum up the inferences of the amazing confluence
of “coincidences” that make life possible in the cosmos. “A universe aiming at
the production of man implies a mind directing it,” they said. “Though man is
not at the physical center of the universe, he appears to be at the center of
its purpose.”15

Those conclusions aside, I was looking
for my own person answers to the fundamental questions posed by McGrath. I
wanted not only to explore the scientific evidence for the universe’s precarious
balancing act, but I also wanted to see if the anthropic principle could survive
the challenge of a hypothesis which, according to some skeptics, may very well
render it obsolete.

While studying the fine-tuning issue, I
came across the writing of an articulate, physics-trained philosopher who has
done his own original research on the issue. I especially liked his
reputation---he was known as being careful and conservative in his calculations,
unwilling to make judgments that exceed the bounds of the data. In short, just
what I was looking for.

A few phone calls later, I was on a plane
for Pennsylvania and a picturesque campus of redbrick buildings situated not far
north of the Civil War battlefield of Gettysburg.

INTERVIEW #4:
ROBIN COLLINS, PHD

As a seventh-grade student, Robin Collins
sent away for several free booklets from the Atomic Energy Commission---and a
love for physics was born. He went on to earn degrees in physics and mathematics
at Washington State University (with a grade point average a scant 0.07 points
shy of perfection) and then entered a doctoral program in physics at the
University of Texas in Austin.

His other love was philosophy---in fact,
it was his third major in college. This expertise came in handy while working on
his doctorate in an office he shared with a group of graduate students that
included an atheist and an agnostic. As for Collins, he had been a Christian
since his last year of high school.

The four of them ended up sparring late
into the night about philosophical and theological issues, which Collins found
so stimulating that he decided to pursue a doctorate in philosophy at the
University of Notre Dame. The legendary Alvin Plantinga, perhaps the best
American philosopher of modem times, supervised Collins’s dissertation.

It was a stray comment by Plantinga in
class one day that first exposed Collins to the issue of the fine-tuning of the
universe. Captivated by the concept, Collins delved deeply into the subject and
soon found a perfect wedding between his expertise in physics and philosophy.

Not only did his training in physics
equip him to understand the often-complex mathematical equations in the
field--—sometimes prompting him to politely correct the errors of more famous
scholars---but his experience in philosophy aided him in formulating rigorous
arguments from the evidence. Now, after years of research and analysis, he has
emerged as one of the most informed and persuasive voices on the anthropic
principle.

Collins has written about the topic for
numerous books, including God and Design: The Teleological Argument
and Modern Science; The Rationality of Theism; God Matters: Readings in the
Philosophy of Religion; Philosophy of Religion: A Reader and Guide; and Reason
for the Hope Within. Funded by a grant from the Pew Foundation, he’s
currently completing a book titled The Well-Tempered Universe: God,
Fine-Tuning, and the Laws of Nature. In addition, he has spoken at numerous
symposia and conferences at Yale, Concordia, Baylor, Stanford, and elsewhere,
including a plenary address at the 2003 Russian-U.S. conference on God and
Physical Cosmology held at Notre Dame.

After serving as a postdoctoral fellow at
Northwestern University, Collins has spent the last decade doing research,
writing, and teaching at Messiah College, where he is currently an associate
professor of philosophy. That’s where I connected with him on a warm Saturday
afternoon.

Collins’s office was so utterly dominated
by stacks and shelves and piles and boxes and heaps of books that there was
nowhere for us to sit, so we commandeered a conference room nearby. The room was
awash in the afternoon sun, which streamed through a large window, and created
dancing pools of light on the carpet.

Collins removed his green sports coat and
tossed it over a chair as we got ready to begin. He has curly, rusty-colored
hair and a beard, and the lean physique of a runner (he jogs nearly ninety
minutes a day for exercise and meditation). We sat across a plain table from
each other, Collins sipping from a mug of his favorite beverage: a concoction of
half black and half green tea.

I was anxious to begin. Collins once said
that the facts concerning the universe’s remarkable “just-so” conditions are
widely regarded as “by far the most persuasive current argument for the
existence God”16---a statement that set a high standard. I
pulled out my notebook and started by asking him to give me an overview of what
the fine-tuning of the cosmos was all about.

THE IMPRESSION OF
DESIGN

“When scientists talk about the
fine-tuning of the universe,” Collins said, “they’re generally referring to the
extraordinary balancing of the fundamental laws and parameters of physics and
the initial conditions of the universe. Our minds can’t comprehend the precision
of some of them. The result is a universe that has just the right conditions to
sustain life. The coincidences are simply too amazing to have been the result of
happenstance--—as Paul Davies said, ‘the impression of design is overwhelming.’17

“I like to use the analogy of astronauts
landing on Mars and finding an enclosed biosphere, sort of like the domed
structure that we built in Arizona a few years ago. At the control panel they
find that all the dials for its environment are set just right for life. The
oxygen ratio is perfect; the temperature is seventy degrees; the humidity is
fifty percent; there’s a system for replenishing the air; there are systems for
producing food, generating energy, and disposing of wastes. Each dial has a huge
range of possible settings, and you can see if you were to adjust one or more of
them just a little bit, the environment would go out of whack and life would be
impossible. What conclusion would you draw from that?”

The answer was obvious. “That someone
took great care in designing and building it,” I said.

“That’s right,” he replied. “You’d
conclude that this biosphere was not there by accident. Volcanoes didn’t
erupt and spew out the right compounds that just happened to assemble themselves
into the biosphere. Some intelligent being had intentionally and carefully
designed and prepared it to support living creatures. And that’s an analogy for
our universe.

“Over the past thirty years or so,
scientists have discovered that just about everything about the basic structure
of the universe is balanced on a razor’s edge for life to exist. The
coincidences are far too fantastic to attribute this to mere chance or to claim
that it needs no explanation. The dials are set too precisely to have been a
random accident. Somebody, as Fred Hoyle quipped, has been monkeying with the
physics.”18

This has to be among the most fascinating
scientific discoveries of the century. “Who first noticed this?” I asked.

“Way back in the late 1950s, Hoyle talked
about the precise process by which carbon and oxygen are produced in a certain
ratio inside stars. If you tinker with the resonance states of carbon, you won’t
get the materials you need for building life. Incidentally, recent studies by
the physicist Heinz Oberhummer and his colleagues show that just a one-percent
change in the strong nuclear force would have a thirty-to a thousand-fold impact
on the production of oxygen and carbon in stars. Since stars provide the carbon
and oxygen needed for life on planets, if you throw that off balance, conditions
in the universe would be much less optimal for the existence of life.

“Anyway--—back to your question--—most of
the research and writing about the fine-tuning has taken place since the early
1980s. There have been hundreds of articles and books written on it from both a
technical and popular perspective.”

Physics can get very complicated very
quickly. So when I asked Collins to describe one of his favorite examples, I was
relieved that he chose one that’s among the easier to envision.

“Let’s talk about gravity,” he said.
“Imagine a ruler, or one of those old-fashioned linear radio dials, that goes
all the way across the universe. It would be broken down into one-inch
increments, which means there would be billions upon billions upon billions of
inches.

“The entire dial represents the range of
force strengths in nature, with gravity being the weakest force and the strong
nuclear force that binds protons and neutrons together in the nuclei being the
strongest,a whopping ten thousand
billion billion billion billion times strong than gravity.19
The range of possible settings for the force of gravity can plausibly be taken
to be at least as large as the total range of force strengths.

“Now, let’s imagine that you want to move
the dial from where it’s currently set. Even if you were to move it by only one
inch, the impact on life in the universe would be catastrophic.”

“One inch compared to the whole
universe?” I asked. “What kind of impact could that have?”

“That small adjustment of the dial would
increase gravity by billion-fold,” he said.

“Whoa!” I said. ‘That sounds like a lot.”

“Actually, it’s not,” he replied,
“Relative to the entire radio dial---that is, the total range of force strengths
in nature---it’s extraordinarily small, just one part in ten thousand billion
billion billion.”

“Wow, that puts it into perspective,” I
said. “What would happen to life?”

“Animals anywhere near the size of human
beings would be crushed,” he said. “As astrophysicist Martin Rees said, ‘In an
imaginary strong gravity world, even insects would need thick legs to support
them, and no animals could get much larger.’20 In fact, a
planet with a gravitational pull of a thousand times that of the Earth would
have a diameter of only forty feet, which wouldn’t be enough to sustain an
ecosystem. Besides which, stars with lifetimes of more than billion
years--—compared to ten billion years for our sun--—couldn’t exist if you
increase gravity by just three thousand times.

“As you can see, compared to the total
range of force strengths in nature, gravity has an incomprehensibly narrow range
for life to exist. Of all the possible settings on the dial, from one side of
the universe to the other, it happens to he situated in the exact right fraction
of an inch to make our universe capable of sustaining life.”

And gravity is just one parameter that
scientists have studied. One expert said there are more than thirty separate
physical or cosmological parameters that require precise calibration in order to
produce a life-sustaining universe.21

As for Collins, he likes to focus on
gravity and a handful of other examples that he has personally investigated and
which he believes are sufficient by themselves to establish the case for a
designer. I decided to ask
Collins about another parameter--—the so-called “cosmologicalconstant”---a phenomenon so bewildering
that it even boggles the mind of one of the world’s most skeptical scientists.

THROWING DARTS AT
AN ATOM

Nobel-winning physicist Steven Weinberg,
an avowed atheist, has expressed amazement at the way the cosmological
constant--—the energy density of empty space--—is “remarkably well adjusted in
our favor.”22 The constant, which is part of Einstein’s equation
for General Relativity, could have had any value, positive or negative, “but
from first principles one would guess that this constant should be very large,”
Weinberg said.

Fortunately, he added, it isn’t:

If large and positive, the cosmological
constant would act as a repulsive force that increases with distance, a force
that would prevent matter from clumping together in the early universe, the
process that was the first step in forming galaxies and stars and planets and
people. If large and negative, the cosmological constant would act as an
attractive force increasing with distance, a force that would almost immediately
reverse the expansion of the universe and cause it to recollapse.23

Either way, life loses---big time. But
astonishingly, that’s not what has happened.

“In fact,” Weinberg said, “astronomical
observations show that the cosmological constant is quite small, very much
smaller than would have been guessed from first principles.”24

When I asked Collins about this, he told
me that the unexpected, counterintuitive, and stunningly precise setting of the
cosmological constant “is widely regarded as the single greatest problem facing
physics and cosmology today.”

“How precise is it?” I asked.

Collins rolled his eyes. “Well, there’s
no way we can really comprehend it,” he said. “The fine-tuning has
conservatively been estimated to be at least one part in a hundred million
billion billion billion billion billion. That would be a ten followed by
fifty-three zeroes. That’s inconceivably precise.”

He was right---I couldn’t imagine a
figure like that. “Can you give me an illustration?” I asked.

“Put it this way,” he said. “Let’s say
you were way out in space and were going to throw a daft at random toward the
Earth. It would be like successfully hitting a bull’s eye that’s one trillionth
of a trillionth of an inch in diameter. That’s less than the size of one
solitary atom.”

Breathtaking
was the word that came into my mind. Staggering. “No wonder scientists
have been blown away by this,” I said.

“I’ll tell you what,” Collins said, “in
my opinion, if the cosmological constant were the only example of fine-tuning,
and if there were no natural explanation for it, then this would be sufficient
by itself to strongly establish design.”

I had to agree. The way I saw it, if the
universe were put on trial for a charge of having been designed, and the
fine-tuning of the cosmological constant were the only evidence introduced by
the prosecution, I would have to vote “guilty”--—assuming there was no hidden
naturalistic explanation. Statistically, this would be a far stronger case than
even the DNA evidence that is used to establish guilt in many criminal trials
today.

Collins continued. “Now, think about
adding together the evidence for just the two factors I’ve discussed so
far--—the cosmological constant and the force of gravity,” he said. “This would
create an unimaginably stronger case. When you combine the two, the
fine-tuning would be to a precision of one part in a hundred million trillion
trillion trilion trillion trillion trillion. That would be the equivalent of one
atom in the entire known universe!”

And Collins wasn’t through. “There are
other examples of fine tuning,” he said. “For instance, there’s the difference
in mass between neutrons and protons. Increase the mass of the neutron by about
one part in seven hundred and nuclear fusion in stars would stop. There would be
no energy source for life.

“And if the electromagnetic force were
slightly stronger or weaker life in the universe would be impossible.
Or consider the strong nuclear force. Imagine decreasing it by fifty
percent, which is tiny---one part in ten thousand billion billion billion
billion, compared to the total range of force strengths.”

“What would happen if you tinkered with
it by that amount?”

“Since like charges repel, the strong
nuclear force would be too weak to prevent the repulsive force between the
positively charged protons in atomic nuclei from tearing apart all atoms
except hydrogen,” he said. “And regardless of what they may show on
Star Trek,you can’t
have intelligent life forms built from hydrogen. It simply doesn’t have enough
stable complexity.”

I knew Collins could go on and on, but I
needed a way to visualize the implications of these increasingly abstract
concepts. “Go back to your Martian biosphere illustration,” I said.

“Okay,” he replied. “Set aside the issue
of how the biosphere got there in the first place. Let’s say when you found it,
there were twelve dials that controlled the conditions inside the dome. Each
dial had an incredibly huge range of possible settings. When you departed, you
left the dials at random and as a result no life was possible in the biosphere.

“Then you come back a year later. When
you look at the dials, you’re amazed to find that each one of them has been
carefully calibrated to just the right setting so that life is flourishing in
the dome. Twelve dials, twelve different factors--—all optimally set for life.

“Do you know what the headline would be
in the newspaper the next day? It would say: EXTRATERRESTRIAL LIFE EXISTS. We
would take that as proof that an intelligent being had landed and set those
dials precisely where they needed to be for life.

“And I’m saying that the dials for the
fundamental properties of the universe have been set like that. In fact, the
precision is far greater. This would be totally unexpected under the theory that
random chance was responsible. However, it’s not unexpected at all under the
hypothesis that there is a Grand Designer.”

READY, AIM, FIRE!

Few concepts stretch the mind as much as
the fine-tuning of the universe. For example, Oxford physicist Roger Penrose
said one parameter, the “original phase-space volume,” required fine-tuning to
an accuracy of one part in ten billion multiplied by itself one hundred and
twenty three times. Penrose remarked that it would be impossible to even write
down that number in full, since it would require more zeroes than the number of
elementary particles in the entire universe! This showed, he said, “the
precision needed to set the universe on its course.”25

In light of the infinitesimal odds of
getting all the right dial settings for the constants of physics, the forces of
nature, and other physical laws and principles necessary for life, it seems
fruitless to try to explain away all of this fine-tuning as merely the product
of random happenstance.

“As long as we’re talking about
probabilities, then theoretically you can’t rule out the possibility--—however
remote---that this could occur by chance,” Collins said.

“However, if I bet you a thousand dollars
that I could flip a coin and get heads fifty times in a row, and then I
proceeded to do it, you wouldn’t accept that. You’d know that the odds against
that are so improbable---about one chance in a million billion---that it’s
extraordinarily unlikely to happen. The fact that I was able to do it against
such monumental odds would be strong evidence to you that the game been rigged.
And the same is true for the fine-tuning of the universe---before you’d conclude
that random chance was responsible, you’d conclude that there is strong evidence
that the universe was rigged. That is, designed.

“I’ll give you another illustration,” he
continued. “Let’s say I was hiking in the mountains and came across rocks
arranged in a pattern that spelled out, WELCOME TO THE MOUNTAINS ROBIN COLLINS.
One hypothesis would be that the rocks just happened to be arranged in that
configuration, maybe as the result of an earthquake or rockslide. You can’t
totally rule that out. But an alternative hypothesis would b that my brother,
who was visiting the mountains before me, arranged the rocks that way.

“Quite naturally, most people would
accept the brother theory over the chance theory. Why? Because it strikes us as
supremely improbable that the rocks would be arranged that way by chance, but
not at all improbable that my brother would place them in that pattern. That’s a
quite reasonable assumption.

“In a similar way, it’s supremely
improbable that the fine-tuning of the universe could have occurred at random,
but it’s not at all improbable if it were the work of an intelligent designer.
So it’s quite reasonable to choose the design theory over the chance theory.
We reason that way all the time. Were the defendant’s fingerprints on the gun
because of a chance formation of chemicals or because he touched the weapon?
Jurors don’t hesitate to confidently conclude that he touched the gun if the
odds against chance are so astronomical.”

While random chance was insufficient to
explain away anthropic “coincidences,” perhaps there were other alternatives to
the conclusion that the universe was the handiwork of a designer. It was time to
put some of those to the test.

“What if there’s some undiscovered
principle that makes the universe the way it is?” 1 asked. “Maybe the elusive
Theory of Everything that physicists have been seeking for so long will turn out
to require the parameters of physics to have exactly the values they do.”

Collins was unperturbed by the idea. “It
wouldn’t bother me a bit,” he replied. “It simply moves the improbability of the
fine-tuning up one level.”

“What do you mean?”

“It would really be amazing if this Grand
Unified Theory--—out of the incredible range of possibilities--—managed to force
all the fine-tuning dials to where they just happened to create a
life-sustaining universe,” he said. “It would be like some predetermined law at
the outset of the universe caused everything to fall into place so that when I
came to the mountain, I saw a pattern of rocks spelling out WELCOME TO THE
MOUNTAINS ROBIN COLLINS.”

“Quite the opposite,” he replied. “It
would amplify it, because it would show that the designer was even more
ingenious than we first thought. As difficult as it would be to fine-tune the
universe by adjusting all of the individual dials, it would be even more
difficult to create an underlying law of nature that then forced all the dials
into those specific positions. All that would do would be to make me even more
in awe of the Creator.”

Some skeptics have attacked the
fine-tuning argument from another direction, raising what has become known as
the Weak Anthropic Principle. According to this idea, if the universe were not
fine-tuned for life, then human beings wouldn’t be around to observe it.
Consequently, they contend that the fine-tuning requires no explanation.

“You have to admit, there’s a certain
intuitive appeal to that,” I said to Collins.

“I think John Leslie had the best answer
to that,” he replied. “Suppose you were standing before a firing squad of fifty
highly trained marksmen who were all aiming directly at your chest from a short
distance away. You heard the order, ‘Ready! Aim! Fire!’ But you didn’t feel
anything. You remove your blindfold and see you’re still very much alive. Not
one bullet hit you.

“Now, you wouldn’t allow the skeptic to
simply dismiss the situation by saying, ‘Oh well, if they had shot you, you
wouldn’t be hereto comment on the
situation.’ No--—the circumstances are still surprising and they would still
demand an explanation. Did they conspire together to miss you? Was this a mock
execution? And the same thing is true for the fine-tuning of the universe. It
still demands explanation. My assessment is that the best explanation is a
designer.”

Despite Collins’s confidence, however, a
more serious threat to the fine-tuning argument has been raised by some
scientists in recent years. Many scientists would say that the so-called
“many-universe hypothesis” looms as the most formidable challenge to the
conclusion that the universe was crafted with artful precision by a transcendent
designer. That, I decided, would be my next line of questioning.

THE METAPHYSICAL
ESCAPE HATCH

Spiritual skeptic Martin Rees, who became
a professor of astronomy at Cambridge when he was in his thirties and was named
Astronomer Royal by Queen Elizabeth in 1995, could not ignore how the cosmic
parameters are so incredibly choreographed to create life-friendly universe. If
the six numbers that underlie the fundamental physical properties of the
universe were altered “even to the tiniest degree,” he said, “there would be no
stars, no complex elements, no life.”27

Declared Rees: “The expansion speed, the
material content of the universe, and the strengths of the basic forces, seem to
have been a prerequisite for the emergence of the hospitable cosmic habitat
which we live.”28

One author nicely encapsulated this
example from Rees:

For the universe to exist as it does
requires that hydrogen be converted to helium in a precise but comparatively
stately manner--—specifically, in a way that converts seven one- thousandths of
its mass to energy. Lower that value very slightly--—from 0.007 percent to 0.006
percent, say--—and no transformation could take place: the universe would
consist of hydrogen and nothing else. Raise the value very slightly--—to 0.008
percent--—and bonding would be so wildly prolific that the hydrogen would long
since have been exhausted. In either case, with the slightest tweaking of the
numbers the universe as we know and need it would not be here.29

When the other five numbers that
represent “the deep forces that shape the universe” are taken into
consideration, said Rees, the universe’s structure becomes “unlikely to an
absurd degree.”30

Still, is Rees surprised by the
universe’s exquisitely precarious balancing act? No. Does he believe the
fine-tuning points to a designer? Not at all. Why? He answers by using the
illustration of a large off-the-rack clothing store.

“If there is a large stack of clothing,
you’re not surprised to find a suit that fits,” he said. “If there are many
universes, each governed by a different set of numbers, there will be one where
there is a particular set of numbers suitable to life. We are in that one.”31

The argument can be summarized this way:
“There could have been millions and millions of different universes, each
created with different dial settings of the fundamental ratios and constants, so
many in fact that the right set was bound to turn up by sheer chance. We just
happened to be the lucky ones.”32

In other words, if ours is the only
universe in existence, then the fine-tuning is powerful--—many would say,
conclusive--—evidence that an intelligence had tinkered with the dials. There
seems to be no other reasonable possibility. But that conclusion evaporates if
there are many or an infinite number of universes. With enough random dial
spinning, the odds are that at least one--—our own--—would win the cosmic
lottery and be a livable habitat.

Rees is not the only skeptic to escape
the theistic implications of the finely tuned universe by speculating about the
existence of other worlds. In fact, that’s exactly the approach Weinberg took
after expressing amazement at the unexpected precariousness of the cosmological
constant.33

Many physicists subscribe to some sort of
multiple universe, or “multiverse,” theory, although others scoff at the idea,
charging that it’s little more than a metaphysical escape hatch to avoid the
fine-tuning evidence for a designer. Said one writer:

Originally the many-worlds hypothesis was
proposed for strictly scientific reasons as a solution to the so-called
quantum-measurement problem in physics. Though its efficacy as an explanation
within quantum physics remains controversial among physicists, its use there
does have an empirical basis. More recently, however, it has been employed to
serve as an alternate non-theistic explanation for the fine-tuning of thephysical constants. This use of the
[hypothesis] does seem to

betray a metaphysical desperation.34

“It’s purely a concept, an idea, without
scientific proof,” William Lane Craig, coauthor of Theism, Atheism and Big
Bang Cosmology told me in an interview. “Look--—this is pure metaphysics.35
There’s no real reason to believe such parallel worlds exist. The very fact that
skeptics have to come up with such an outlandish theory is because the
fine-tuning of the universe points powerfully toward an intelligent
designer--—and some people will hypothesize anything to avoid reaching that
conclusion.”36

Similarly, Cambridge’s Polkinghorne, a
former professor of mathematical physics, has called the hypothesis
“pseudo-science” and “a metaphysical guess.”37 He put it this
way in his book Science and Theology: “The many universes account is
sometimes presented as if it were purely scientific, but in fact a sufficient
portfolio of different universes could only be generated by speculative
processes that go well beyond what sober science can honestly endorse.”38

Davies has concluded that “the
many-universes theory can at best explain only a limited range of features, and
then only if one appends some metaphysical assumptions that seem no less
extravagant than design.”39 Observed Clifford Longley: “The
sight of scientific atheists clutching at such desperate straws has put new
spring in the step theists.”40

Rees conceded the tenuous nature of the
multiverse theory in 2000 interview with a science journalist. Rees admitted the
calculation are “highly arbitrary” (though he suggests someday they might not
be), and that the theory itself “hangs on assumptions,” remains speculative, and
is not amenable to direct investigation. “The other universes are unavailable to
us, just as the interior of a black hole unavailable,” he said. He added that we
cannot even know if the universes are finite or infinite in number. Even so, he
said the multiverse theory “genuinely lies within the province of science.”41

All of this was swirling in my mind as I
prepared to question Collins on the possibility that a multi-universe scenario
could extinguish the evidence for a designer of our universe. I was genuinely
curious: Can the hypothesis provide a reasonable refuge for skeptics who balk at
the idea of God? Or would the anthropic argument withstand the challenge?

THE COSMIC HOCKEY
PUCK

I have to admit that I was taken aback by
Collins’s initial response when I asked him about the viability of the
many-universes hypothesis.

“Well,” he said, taking a sip of tea and
putting the mug on the table, “most of these hypotheses are entirely speculative
and have little basis in physics. They’re not worth considering. However, the
most popular theory, inflationary cosmology, has more credibility. I have to say
that I’m at least sympathetic to it. I’m trying to keep an open mind.”

Collins was referring to the
“self-reproducing inflationary universe” model proposed by André Linde of
Stanford University, which is based on advanced principles of quantum physics.
This was the theory that Weinberg cited when he tried to explain away the
apparent fine-tuning of the cosmological constant. In a stunning example of
understatement, one science writer said that Linde’s concept “defies easy
visualization.”42 However, at the risk of too much simplicity,
a basic illustration can be used.

Linde postulates a preexisting superspace
that is rapidly expanding. A small part of this superspace is blown up by a
theoretical inflaton field, sort of like soap bubbles forming in an
infinite ocean full of dish detergent. Each bubble becomes a new universe. In
what’s known as “chaotic inflation theory,” a huge number of such universes are
randomly birthed, thanks to quantum fluctuations, along various points of
superspace. Thus, each universe has a beginning and is finite in size, while the
much larger superspace is infinite in size and endures forever.

I mentioned to Collins that in an earlier
interview on cosmology, William Lane Craig had little use for this kind of
theory. “Granted, it’s highly speculative,” Collins said. “There are an awful
lot of loose ends with it. But since it’s by far the most popular theory
today--—and I believe it should be taken seriously--—let’s not critique it right
now. Let’s just make the assumption that it’s true.”

“All right,” I said, nodding. “That’s
fine.”

“Now, here’s my overarching point: even
if Linde’s theory could account for the existence of many universes, this would
not destroy the case for design. It would just kick the issue up another level.
In fact, I believe it would point toward design.”

That was an interesting twist! “Why do
you believe that?” I asked.

“I’ll use an everyday example,” he said.
“My wife and I have a bread-making machine. Actually, it’s defunct now, but we
used to use it. To make edible bread, we first needed this well-designed machine
that had the right circuitry, the right heating element, the right timer and so
forth. Then we had to put in the right ingredients in the right proportions and
in the right order--—water, milk, flour, shortening, salt, sugar, yeast. The
flour had to have the right amount of a protein substance called gluten, or else
it would need to be added.43 Everything has to be just right
to produce a loaf of bread--—otherwise, you get what looks like a burnt hockey
puck.

“Now, let’s face it: a universe is far
more complex than a loaf of bread. My point is that if a bread machine requires
certain specific parameters to be set in order to create bread, then there has
to be a highly designed mechanism or process to produce functional universes. In
other words, regardless of which multiple-universe theory you use, in every case
you’d need a ‘many-universes generator’--—and it would require the right
structure, the right mechanism, and the right ingredients to chum out new
universes.

“Otherwise,” he said, stifling a chuckle,
“you’d end up with a cosmic hockey puck!”

THE MANY-UNIVERSE
MACHINE

Collins pushed back his chair and walked
over to a chalkboard on the wall. “My students get a kick out of it when I draw
a ‘many universes generator,’” he said, sketching a whimsical cartoon of a
manufacturing machine, complete with a billowing smokestack and a conveyor belt
that brought in raw materials and then carried fresh1y minted universes out the
other side.

“This machine,” he said, putting the
finishing touches on his artwork, “can only produce life-sustaining universes if
it has the right components and mechanisms.”

I leaned back and scrutinized his
drawing. “What would you need, say, under Linde’s theory?” I asked.

“First,” Collins said as he strolled hack
to his chair, “you’d need a mechanism to supply the energy needed for the bubble
universes. That would be the inflaton field that he has hypothesized, which
effectively acts like a reservoir of unlimited energy. Second, he would need a
mechanism to form the bubbles. This would be Einstein’s equation of general
relativity. Because of its peculiar form, this would supposedly cause the bubble
universes to form and the ocean to keep expanding.

“Third, he would need a mechanism to
convert the energy of the inflaton field to the normal mass/energy that we find
in our universe. Fourth, he would need a mechanism to allow enough variation in
the constants of physics among the various universes. In other words, he would
need a way to vary the constants of physics so that by random chance he would
produce some universes, like ours, that have the right fine-tuning to sustain
life.”

“According to
superstring theory, the ultimate constituents of matter are strings of energy
that undergo quantum vibrations in ten or eleven dimensions of space-time. Six
or seven of these dimensions are ‘rolled up’ to an extremely small size. In the
jargon of string theory, they are said to be compactified. Their shape
determines the modes of vibration of the strings. This, in turn, would determine
the types and masses of fundamental particles and the characteristics of the
forces between them. So they would have different constants of physics and laws
governing the forces.”

“That sounds pretty iffy,” I said.

“Well, both inflationary cosmology and
superstring theory are highly speculative. In fact, theoretical physicist Michio
Kaku said recently that ‘not a shred of experimental evidence’ has been found to
confirm superstrings. Physicists are a long way from even working out the
equations. Right now it’s just a theory whose main merits are that it’s
mathematically elegant and that it holds the promise of unifying quantum
mechanics and general relativity, two branches of physics that physicists have
struggled to reconcile for over fifty years.”

I summed up what Collins had said so far.
“So the many-universes generator would need all these factors if it ever hoped
to produce a functioning universe,” I said.

“Right,” he replied. “For example,
without Einstein’s equation and the inflaton field working together
harmoniously, it wouldn’t work. If the universe obeyed Newton’s theory of
gravity instead of Einstein’s, it wouldn’t work. But that’s not all.

“You would also have to have the right
background laws in place. For instance, without the so-called principle of
quantization, all of the electrons in an atom would be sucked into the atomic
nuclei. That would make atoms impossible. Further, as eminent Princeton
physicist Freeman Dyson has noted, without the Pauli-exclusion principle,
electrons would occupy the lowest orbit around the nucleus, and that would make
complex atoms impossible.45 Finally, without a universally
attractive force between all masses--—such as gravity--—stars planets couldn’t
form. If just one of these components was missing or different, it’s highly
improbable that any life-permitting universes could be produced.

“And keep in mind,” he added, “you would
need to make trillions upon trillions upon trillions upon trillions of universes
in order to increase the odds that the cosmological constant would come out
right at least once, since it’s finely tuned to an incomprehensible degree. And
that’s just one parameter.”

“What’s your conclusion then?” I asked.

“It’s highly unlikely that such a
universe-generating system would have all the right components and ingredients
in place by random chance, just like random chance can’t account for how a
bread-maker produces loaves of edible bread. So if a many-universe-generating
system exists, it would be best explained by design.”

“That means,” I said, “that when
scientists appeal to the theoretical existence of many universes to avoid the
implications of the fine-tuning of our universe, they still can’t escape
design.”

“Exactly,” he declared. “Theists have
nothing to fear from the ideal that there may be multiple universes. There would
still need to be an intelligent designer to make the finely tuned
universe-generating process work. To modify a phrase from philosopher Fred
Dretske: these are inflationary times, and the cost of atheism has just gone
up.”

THE SUPERMIND

I thought for a few moments about
Collins’s explanation. Certainly it made sense that generating universes
would require the right mechanisms, the right ingredients, and the right
precision--—all earmarks of intelligent design. But I was still mentally
wrestling with something else. To me--—admittedly, not a physicist--—the whole
concept of multiple universes seemed absurd.

I found myself agreeing with the
iconoclastic Gregg Easterbrook, a contributing editor for the Atlantic
Monthly, who researched the discoveries and theories of modern science. He
was characteristically blunt in his assessment. “The multiverse idea rests on
assumptions that would be laughed out of town if they came from a religious
text,” he wrote. “[The theory] requires as much suspension of disbelief as any
religion. Join the church that believes in the existence of invisible objects
fifty billion galaxies wide!”46

When I mentioned my skepticism to
Collins, he listened carefully. “There’s a reason you feel that way,” he said.
“You see, everything else being equal, we tend to prefer hypotheses that are
natural extrapolations of what we already know.”

I wasn’t sure what he was driving at.
“Could you give me an illustration of that?” I asked.

“Sure,” he said. “Let’s say you found
some dinosaur bones. You would naturally consider them to be very strong
evidence that dinosaurs lived in the past. Why? Because even though nobody has
ever seen dinosaurs, we do have the experience of other animals leaving behind
fossilized remains. So the dinosaur explanation is a natural extrapolation from
our common experience. It makes sense.

“Let’s say there was a dinosaur skeptic,
however. He was trying to rationalize away the bones you found. Let’s suppose he
claimed he could explain the bones by proposing that a ‘dinosaur-bone-producing
field’ simply caused them to materialize out of thin air.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I said.

“And that’s exactly what you would tell
the skeptic,” Collins continued. “You’d say: ‘Wait a second--—there are no known
laws of physics that would allow that field to conjure up bones out of nothing.’
But the skeptic would be ready for you. He’d reply, ‘Aha—we just haven’t
discovered these laws yet. We simply haven’t detected these fields yet. Give us
more time, Lee, and I’m sure we will.’

“My guess is that nothing could deter you
from inferring that dinosaurs existed, because this would be a natural
extrapolation from what you already know,” Collins concluded. “On the other
hand, the skeptic needs to invent a whole new set of physical laws and a whole
new set of mechanisms that are not a natural extrapolation from anything we know
or have experienced. You wouldn’t buy his story. No way.”

“You’re saying, then, that an intelligent
designer is a natural extrapolation of what we already know?”

“Yes, I am,” he replied. “Think about
it, Lee--—we already know that intelligent minds produce finely tuned devices.
Look at the space shuttle. Look at a television set. Look at an internal
combustion engine. We see minds producing complex, precision machinery all the
time.

“So postulating the existence of a
supermind--—or God--—as the explanation for the fine-tuning of the universe
makes all the sense in the world. It would simply be a natural extrapolation of
what we already know that minds can do.
And, what’s more, unlike the hypothesis that there are many universes, we have
independent evidence of God’s existence, such as a personal experience of the
Creator and the other sort of evidence you’re talking about in your book.”

THE BEAUTY OF
PHYSICS

Collins took his last sip of tea at about
the same time I finished my glass of water. “Let’s go get some refills,” he
said, motioning for me, to follow him down the hall.

Without students or faculty, the building
was eerily quiet, our voices echoing slightly as we ambled down the empty
corridor. “The day is too beautiful to be spending so much time indoors,” I
commented as we arrived at a self-serve kitchen area.

“Yeah, perfect for a run,” Collins said.

I filled my glass with water while he
blended his tea. Silence prevailed for a few moments, then Collins remarked:
“Talking about beauty reminds me of another line of reasoning that points toward
designer,” he said.

“Really?” I asked. “Tell me about it.”

“Think about the extraordinary beauty,
elegance, harmony, and ingenuity that we find in the laws of nature,” he replied
as we headed back to the conference room.

“Whole books have been written about it.
Weinberg once spent an entire chapter explaining how the criteria of beauty and
elegance have been used to guide physicists in formulating the right laws.47
The theoretical physicist Alan Guth said that the original construction of the
gauge theories of fundamental particle physics ‘was motivated mainly by their
mathematical elegance.’48

“One of the most influential scientists
of the twentieth century, Paul Dirac, the Nobel Prize winner from Cambridge,
even claimed that ‘it is more important to have beauty in one’s equations than
to have them fit experiment.”49 One historian said
mathematical beauty was ‘an integral part’ of Dirac’s strategy. He said Dirac
believed physicists ‘first had to select the most beautiful mathematics--—not
necessarily connected to the existing basis of theoretical physics--—and then
interpret them in physical terms.”50

“And you see beauty in the laws and
principles of nature?” I

“Oh, absolutely,” he declared. “They’re
beautiful, and they’re also elegant in their simplicity. Surprisingly so. When
scientists are trying to construct a new law of nature, they routinely look for
the simplest law that adequately accounts for the data.”

I interrupted with an objection. “Isn’t
beauty in the eye of the beholder?” I asked. “What’s beautiful seems so
subjective.”

“Subjectivity can’t explain the success
of the criterion of beauty in science,” he replied. “We wouldn’t expect purely
subjective patterns to serve as the basis of theories that make highly accurate
predictions, such as the success of quantum electrodynamics to predict the
quantum correction to the g-factor of the electron.

“Besides, not all beauty is subjective;
there are also objective aspects of it, at least in the classical sense. In his
book The Analysis of Beauty, written in the mid-1700s, William Hogarth
said the defining feature of beauty or elegance is ‘simplicity with variety.’
And that’s what scientists have found--—a world where fundamental simplicity
gives rise to the enormous complexity needed for life.”

I ventured another alternative. “Maybe
the concept of beauty is merely the product of evolution,” I said. “Perhaps it
has survival value, and so our sense of what’s beautiful has been shaped by
natural selection.”

“That would only apply to things we can
see, touch, or hear--— things in our everyday world that are necessary for
survival. But evolution can’t explain the beauty that exists in the underlying
world of physical laws and mathematics,” he said.

“In physics, we see an uncanny degree of
harmony, symmetry, and proportionality. And we see something that I call
‘discoverability.’ By that, I mean that the laws of nature seem to have been
carefully arranged so that they can be discovered by beings with our level of
intelligence. That not only fits the idea of design, but it also suggests a
providential purpose for humankind--—that is, to learn about our habitat and to
develop science and technology.”

Collins mentioned that Davies had also
commented about the beauty of nature in his book Superforce. Later I
found the passage:

A common reaction among physicists to
remarkable discoveries. . . is a mixture of delight at the subtlety and
elegance of nature, and of stupefaction: “I would never have thought of doing it
that way.” If nature is so “clever” it can exploit mechanisms that amaze us with
their ingenuity, is that not persuasive evidence for the existence of
intelligent design behind the physical universe? If the world’s finest minds can
unravel only with difficulty the deeper workings of nature, how could it be
supposed that those workings are merely a mindless accident, a product of blind
chance?... Uncovering the laws of physics resembles completing a crossword
[puzzle] in a number of ways.... In the case of the crossword, it would never
occur to us to suppose that the words just happened to fall into a consistent
interlocking pattern by accident.’51

“Under an atheistic viewpoint,” Collins
continued, “there’s no reason to expect that the fundamental laws would be
beautiful or elegant, because they easily could have been otherwise. Even
Weinberg, who’s an atheist, conceded that ‘sometimes nature seems more beautiful
than strictly necessary.’52

“However, the fine-tuning for simplicity,
beauty, and elegance does make sense under the God hypothesis. Think of the
classical conception of God--—he is the greatest possible being, and therefore
being with perfect aesthetic sensibility. It wouldn’t be surprising at all for
God to want to create a world of great subtlety and beauty at it most
fundamental level.”

“ALL OTHER
THEORIES FALL SHORT”

We walked back into the conference room,
knowing that we were getting close to finishing. Collins leaned against the
wall, a mug in one hand, the other arm casualty folded across his chest, while I
perched atop the back of a chair, my feet resting on its seat.

The intersection of faith and physics was
a fascinating crossroad to me, and I was curious about the impact of Collins’s
research on his personal life.

“What has your study of the fine-tuning
of the universe done to your faith?” I asked.

Collins put down his tea. “Oh, it has
strengthened it, absolutely,’ he replied. “Like everybody, I’ve gone through
some hard times in life, and all of the scientific evidence for God has been an
important anchor for me.”

That sounded like science displacing
faith. “Isn’t that what faith is supposed to do?” I asked.

“I am taking about faith,” he insisted.
“God doesn’t usually appear supernaturally somewhere and say, ‘Here I am.’ He
uses preachers to bring people his message of redemption through Christ. And
sometimes he uses natural means. Romans 1:20 tells us that God’s eternal power
and divine nature can be seen and understood through things that are made, and
that this is the reason humanity is without excuse. I see physics as uncovering
the evidence of God’s fingerprint at a deeper and more subtle level than the
ancients could have dreamed of. He has used physics to enable me to see the
evidence of his presence and creative ability. The heavens really do declare the
glory of God, even more so for someone trained with physics and with eyes to
see. That has been a tremendous encouragement to me.

“Of course,” he continued, “the
fine-tuning by itself can’t tell us whether God is personal or not. We have to
find out in other ways. But it does help us conclude that he exists, that he
created the world, and that therefore the universe has a purpose. He made it
very carefully and quite precisely as a habitat for intelligent life.”

“How do you assess the persuasiveness of
the anthropic evidence?” I asked.

“It’s not conclusive in the sense that
mathematics tells us two plus two equals four,” he said. “Instead, it’s a
cumulative argument. The extraordinary fine-tuning of the laws and constants
of nature, their beauty, their discoverability, their intelligibility--—all of
this combines to make the God hypothesis the most reasonable choice we have. All
other theories fall short.”

I picked up a newspaper clipping from the
conference table, then said to Collins: “The New York Times recently published
that famous quote by physicist Freeman Dyson, who looked at the evidence for
fine-tuning and said: ‘The universe in some sense must have known that we were
coming.’ But then the author added: ‘This notion horrifies some physicists, who
feel it is their mission to find a mathematical explanation of nature that
leaves nothing to chance or the whim of the Creator.’ Obviously, that’s not how
you see the mission of physics, is it?”53

“No, not at all,” he said. “That attitude
reflects an antitheistic bias. I don’t mind scientists trying to find
naturalistic explanations, but I wouldn’t say it’s the mission of physics to
explain everything naturalistically. The mission of physics is to pursue a
naturalistic explanation as far as we can; but since physics can only explain
one set of laws by invoking a more fundamental set of laws, it can never itself
explain the most fundamental laws. Explaining these laws is where one moves from
physics to metaphysics. Though invoking God may not be strictly part of science,
it is in the spirit of science to follow the evidence and its implications
wherever they lead us. We shouldn’t shrink back from the God hypothesis if
that’s what the facts fit.”

He wasn’t alone in that perspective. Said
Harvard’s Gingerich: “I believe that ... the Book of Nature, with its astounding
details--—the blade of grass, the Conus cedonulli, or the resonance
levels of the carbon atom--—suggests a God of purpose and a God of design. And I
think my belief makes me no less of a scientist.”54

With that, one last question came to
mind. “As you dig deeper and deeper into physics,” I said to Collins, “do you
have a sense of wonder and awe at what you find?”

“I really do,” he said, a grin breaking
on his face. “Not just with the fine-tuning but in lots of areas, like quantum
mechanics and the ability of our minds to understand the world. The deeper we
dig, we see that God is more subtle and more ingenious and more creative than we
ever thought possible. And I think that’s the way God created the universe for
us--—to be full of surprises.”

HEADS OR TAILS

Whichever way I looked, the inference of
design seemed inescapable. If ours is the only universe in existence, which
is a logical conclusion based on the evidence, then its highly sophisticated
fine-tuning cries out for a designer. On the other hand, if the esoteric
theories of physicists turn out to be true and our universe is one of many
others, then the need for a universe-generating mechanism a1so would demand a
designer.

Heads or tails, the Creator wins.

As Vera Kistiakowski, professor of
physics emerita at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and former
president of the Association of Women in Science, summarized the implications of
the evidence: “The exquisite order displayed by our scientific understanding of
the physical world calls for the divine.”55

That was also the conclusion that
dissolved Patrick Glynn’s atheism. The anthropic evidence, he said. . .

. . .does offer as strong an indication as
reason and science alone could be expected to provide that God exists. .. .
Ironically, the picture of the universe bequeathed to us by the most advanced
twentieth-century science is closer in spirit to the vision presented in the
Book of Genesis than anything offered by science since Copernicus.56

So far, after the one-two punch of my
interviews with Craig and Collins, the evidence was clearly pointing in that
direction. In fact, my imagination was captivated by one particular implication.

In The Case for Christ, I described the
historical evidence for the miracles of Jesus of Nazareth, especially his
resurrection from the dead. The ability to supernaturally intervene in the
normal affairs of the world, to momentarily suspend the natural functioning of
the universe, is certainly powerful affirmation that he is the Son of God.

However, having heard about the
meticulous fine-tuning of the laws of nature, I now realized that the everyday
functioning of the universe is, in itself, a kind of ongoing miracle. The
“coincidences” that allow the fundamental properties of matter to yield a
habitable environment are so improbable, so far-fetched, so elegantly
orchestrated, that they require a divine explanation.

In other words, the momentary abrogation
of the laws 0f nature in a sudden, visible, and direct way--—what we usually
call a “miracle”--—obviously points toward an all-powerful deity. Yet even if
God doesn’t supernaturally intervene, the otherwise inexplicable fine-tuning of
physics, operating day in and day out ever since creation, also seems to warrant
the term “miraculous.”

And miracles are the province of God.

I was pondering this thought as Collins
and I emerged from the building, taking deep breaths of the fragrant autumn air
and basking in the sunshine. Looking up, I could see the blazing sun on one side
of the blue sky and the faint moon on the other. My mind turned from the
abstract world of physics to the planets and moons and stars and galaxies that
populate the universe.

What other evidence of fine-tuning, I
wondered, might be waiting in the cosmos? Could our very existence on a
life-sustaining rock on the outskirts of the Milky Way tell us anything about
the Creator who has thus far been so highly suggested by cosmology and physics?

3. For a description of the dynamics
between Christian and non-Christian spouses, based on the experiences that
Leslie and I had during the era when she was a Christian and I was an atheist,
see Lee and Leslie Strobel, Surviving a Spiritual Mismatch in Marriage
(Grand Rapids, Mich.: Zondervan, 2002).

17. Paul Davies, The Cosmic Blueprint:
New Discoveries in Nature’s Creative Ability to Order the Universe (New
York: Simon and Schuster, 1988), 203.

18. Collins (and Gingerich in his earlier
quote) was referring to a well-known comment by Sir Fred Hoyle: “A common sense
interpretation of the facts suggests that a superintellect has monkeyed with the
physics, as well as with chemistry and biology, and that there are no blind
forces worth speaking about in nature. The numbers one calculates from the facts
seem to me so overwhelming as to put this conclusion almost beyond question.”
Fred Hoyle, “The Universe: Past and Present Reflections,” Engineering &
Science (November 1981).

19. The
relative strength of the four forces in nature--—gravity, electromagnetism, the
weak force, and the strong nuclear force--—is typically specified by a widely
used dimensionless measure, which can roughly be thought of as the relative
strengths of the respective forces between two protons in a nucleus. See: John
Barrow and Frank Tipler, The Anthropic Cosmological Principle (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 1986), 293—95.

35. Paul Davies offers this definition of
metaphysics: “In Greek philosophy, the term ‘metaphysics’ originally meant ‘that
which comes after physics.’ It refers to the fact that Aristotle’s metaphysics
was found, untitled, placed after his treatise on physics. But metaphysics soon
came to mean those topics that lie beyond physics (we would today say beyond
science) and yet may have a bearing on the nature of scientific inquiry. So
metaphysics means the study of topics about physics (or science generally), as
opposedto the scientific subject
itself. Traditional metaphysical problems have included the origin, nature, and
purpose of the universe, how the world of appearances presented to our senses
relates to its underlying ‘reality’ and order, the relationship between mind and
matter, and the existence of freewill. Clearly science is deeply involved in
such issues, but empirical science alone may not be able to answer them, or any
‘meaning-of-life’ questions.” (Paul Davies, The Mind of God, 31.)

41. Brad Lemley, “Why Is There Life?”
In a subsequent interview, Rees said it’s helpful for physicists to contemplate
the possibility of other universes. He added: “I don’t believe, but I think it’s
part of science to find out.” See Dennis Overbye, “A New View of Our
Universe: Only One of Many,” New York Times (October 29, 2002).

42. Ibid.

43. According to The Bread Factory
Book, produced by Sanyo: “Bread flour made from hard wheat is high in the
protein substance called gluten. When mixed and kneaded, the gluten stretches
and incorporates air bubbles to produce a light, fine textured loaf.” In making
whole-wheat bread, up to four tablespoons of gluten needs to be added to
increase the height of the loaves.